Shooting stars and Angels
by CutePoison
Summary: Ch. 16 is up, Complete! 17 year old goth Sara meets a nerdy Michael at a club
1. Chapter 1

(Disclaimer: I don't own these awesome characters, Fox does.)

She was so stoned she thought she could fly. As the heroin coursed through her veins making her it's bitch, it never occurred to Sara for even a moment that the mass of tangled bodies beneath the stage would fail to catch her; buoy her up to the sky where she belonged, riding the high that was keeping her alive in this insane world of political fathers and dead mothers who were either never there; or left you too soon to teach you the way the world really worked.

She stared out glassy eyed for the briefest of moments and then raising her slim arms up and out to the sides she flew from her perch on the stage, like a shooting star, the music at her back pounding into her; pushing her forward, towards an adrenaline release that sent the air rushing from her lungs.

She landed hard, but sprang back against the many hands that touched her body in intimate and not so intimate places, some purposeful, others accidental in their groping embrace. And then she was lowered to the floor by the sweaty teenagers surrounding the mosh pit.

She met the smiling faces of the handful of hopeful guys; her eyes dead as she moved forward leaving them behind on her way towards the back of the club.

She pushed her hair out of her face, the black streaks her father had blown up over just last week, dark in contrast to her rich auburn locks. She had stuck to her guns though and the streaks stayed.

Sara knew her father was much too busy these days to argue with his belligerent 17 year old daughter. The black clothes she wore, the eyeliner and pale skin were already frowned upon by her father, what was the difference if she streaked her hair a little? He would have no problem if she were a sun streaked blond who begged for tennis lessons so she could flirt with the club's overly tan instructor.

Sara moved lazily through the crowd pushing roughly into those in her way. her small frame would be bruised in the morning and she would only be able to guess at how each mar on her otherwise perfect skin came to be.

She didn't care though. Her body was used to the abuse. Her body was hers to abuse and no one else could lay any claim on Sara Tancredi. That was the way she wanted it.

She pushed again at her two toned locks, her eyes to the floor; her coppery eyes that shone in the moonlight and hid from the sun.

She was bringing her head up when she felt him plow into her; unmoving against her momentum in his solidness.

She hit the floor and he stood over her like an angel, his head silhouetted in the light, casting a halo over him.  
Still seeing him on the backs of her closed eye lids she pushed herself up from the floor and shoved passed his feeble attempt at a shouted apology.

She moved through the club unaware that he was following her until she reached the much cooler hall. In the hall the music was muffled and the air was slightly fresher, smelling only of spilled beer and cigarettes, the smell of sweat left behind the closed doors.

Sara leaned up against the wall, trying not to fall down. Her body was sheathed in a light sweat and the cool air felt good on her exposed flesh.

"I'm really sorry. I didn't see you. I mean I saw you, but it was too late, I was already running into you."

Sara stared at him her eyes moving from his blue gray eyes to his mouth which wouldn't shut up.

"I'm Michael, by the way." He held out his hand.

"You always talk so much Michael?" Sara asked pulling out her pack of cigarettes.

She noticed his slight frown.

"I take it you don't smoke, huh?"

Michael shook his head. "But I do talk a lot... sometimes anyways, mostly when I'm nervous. I tend to babble"

Sara just looked at him. "You tend to babble? What are you a brook?"

To her surprise he laughed at her joke.

She lit her cigarette and took a deep pull, blowing the smoke straight out in front of her.

"So, you get high, Michael?"

Sara figured this would scare him away for sure. She knew his type only too well; the goody two shoes who was dragged to a club by friends and then ditched when he refused to have fun

"Um, no I don't get high. It's ah, a waste of brain cells?"

Sara laughed at his answer and took another deep pull, the nicotine enhancing her high.

As she sized him up through mascara hooded eyes she wondered how she could get rid of him.

Little did she know he would be her salvation...

(No idea at the moment if I will be continuling this.)


	2. Chapter 2

Sara looked him dead on blowing a stream of smoke from her lips. "What do I have to say to you to make you go away?"

Michael stared at her for a moment, and then pushing his glasses up, he backed away. "Um, I think you just said it. Take care, okay?"

Sara looked away dismissing him, the sudden movement sending things a whirl. She felt the floor move under her feet as things grew fuzzy; as it tipped and dipped like a boat in a storm. She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment and then took another deep pull on her cigarette, fighting the cloud that swirled around her mingling with the smoke from her lungs.

She looked back up at the guy; Michael, and saw him turn around to look at her, and then she was fading to black, cigarette tumbling from lax fingers, a slumped figure sliding down a stained wall to the sticky floor.

XXXXX

Sara's eyes came open slowly, a blur of mixed colors and hues changing quickly as she focused on her poster covered wall. She tucked a hand under her cheek and let her eyes move over the glossy images of figures clad in black; the figures that spoke the truth about the world; her world anyways.

She sighed and flipped over, her eyes going wide and then narrowing as she took in the sprawled body lying across the chair near her bed.

What the fuck? What was this guy doing here?

She sat up and eased her feet to the floor studying him. He wasn't bad looking in a way she supposed, if you liked the 'smart' type. She tried to remember who he was, but couldn't. Usually when she awoke to a guy in her room she knew exactly what had happened, her aching body could tell no lies. But she had never awakened to find a strange guy sleeping in her chair.

She let her eyes roam over him and then to the table beside her bed. She took in the glasses folded neatly by her alarm clock and then let her eyes move back to his face.

Finished with her scrutiny she reached out a foot and nudged him none too gently. He woke up almost instantly, surprising her. And then his blue gray eyes were squinting at her.

"Who are you, and why are you sleeping in my room?" She demanded hotly.

He blinked a few times and sat forward. "Um, Michael, remember? And, oh, why am I sleeping in your room? Well, last night you kind of passed out or something, so I brought you home... in a cab. Then..."

Sara's eyes narrowed as she cut him off. "You brought me here? How did you know where I live?"

She reached for her cigarettes and lit one, a slight tremor noticeable. She needed a fix, and soon. She took the smoke into her lungs and focused on him.

"Well? You can talk, I just heard you, 'Michael'. So how about it?"

He was still squinting at her slightly. "I searched your pockets. I found your ID. And then I called a cab. I paid for the cab with money I found in your other pocket."

Sara blew a lung full of smoke out, quick and with force, her lithe body moving to stub out the cigarette.

"Get out of my house!" She shouted feeling suddenly angrier then she could remember having felt in a long time.

A small amount of satisfaction coursed through her as he jumped at the volume of her words in the quiet bedroom.

"No thanks are necessary. I couldn't take a money reward."

What was he babbling now?

Sara just wanted rid of him. Her hands were shaking more and more and her eyes kept shooting to her closet door where she kept her stash hidden in a shoe box.

"Just shut up and leave. You're dismissed school boy!"

She knew she was being overly mean, but she wanted him out so she could get to that closet.

In a few minutes she would just say to hell with it, and shoot up in front of him, which might be worth it just to see the expression on his face.

Michael stood up without another word and left the room, the door shutting quietly behind him.

As soon as he was gone she rushed to the closet and threw open the door, her frantic hands fumbling with the lid on the shoe box.

Her stash and supplies in hand, she made her way back to the bed, where she loaded up quickly her need growing with each passing second, her gut twisting as its claws sunk deeper.

With shaking fingers she tied the shoe string around her arm.

She then hurriedly shot a little out clearing the syringe of any air that might be present, and sunk it into her vein, pushing the plunger sending the heroin soaring through her body.

She felt it hit her system and sank back on the bed, enclosed in the little world where she had everything she needed; a world so unlike the one, before finding this release, she had walked through sober.

The syringe still sticking out of her arm, and her eyes feeling heavy she slid further away.

It was through a heavy fog that she saw the door open.

Her eyes were drifting closed again as Michael came back into the room.

(Michael)

Michael froze at the sight of her, her red hair with black streaks falling along her overly pale features; last night's mascara smudged under her lovely eyes.

He made himself move, and went to her side. She was out cold.

He reached and expertly took her hand. Placing his fingers on her thin wrist finding a steady pulse, he then placed her hand gently at her side and let his eyes move along her arm to the syringe sticking from the tender bend of her arm. He reached and pulled it out gently, careful not to hurt her, and then set the offending object on the table.

He had known there was a good chance she was an addict, he had been told to look for the signs. He grabbed the glasses he had pretended to leave behind and shoved them in his shirt pocket. He could see perfectly fine without them, they were just part of his guise as a nerdy school boy.

In fact he was far from school age, twenty four and fresh out of training, Michael Scofield was still what you would call green. But as far back as he could remember he had wanted to be an agent with The Federal Bureau of Investigation, so here he was, mostly due to his young appearance he knew. The assignment had specifically called for someone who would fit in at Sara's school; someone who could work their way into her life. Governor Tancredi had made it clear that his daughter not know that she was under protection.

He had voiced his fear that if Sara were wise to a guard, she would in a simple act of rebellion; do all in her power to give him the slip.

But from what Michael could see, despite the threats against the Governor and his family, the clear threat with his assignment seemed to be her drug addiction.

He leaned in and pulled one of Sara's eyelids up checking her pupils. And then confident that she was okay, he pulled out his cell phone and moved into the hall to report in.


	3. Chapter 3

(Michael)

Michael loosened his tie with a sigh and eased his long frame down onto the sofa in his small apartment.

He had just returned from a debriefing on the Tancredi case; a case with which he was officially, until further notice no longer needed. .

And while he was sure the Governor hadn't been happy to find that his only daughter was a heroin addict, it certainly was a convenient way to keep her safe. She would be on round the clock surveillance for the next thirty days, as of today.

Of course when Miss Tancredi returned from rehab his services would once again be employed, but until then he was a free agent, so to speak

He sighed again and scraped a hand across his closely cropped hair. He knew that there was a good chance the whole thing would be over soon. As soon as they caught the sicko sending threatening letters to the Governor's mansion his first case; well the first case he had been involved with anyways, would be over.

Michael grabbed the remote, his mind needing the release of a mindless sitcom or unrealistic drama.

He chuckled as the credits came up for a show with a tattooed genius who was dead set on breaking his brother out of a maximum security prison.

He shook his head and settled back, intent on giving himself over to an hour of the unrealistic for once.

(Sara)

This was bullshit! Sara had been pacing angrily ever since they showed her to the small room. She walked passed the mirror, not fooled for a second that she was truly alone.

Refusing to let them believe she was that naive, she flipped them the bird. If the chairs weren't bolted down, and she knew that they were, she had already checked, she would shatter their little fantasy all to hell.

She couldn't believe this was happening. The last thing she could remember was fixing and falling asleep. The next thing she knew her father was pouring cold water on her and shoving the used syringe under her nose demanding answers. After a huge yell fest Frank had laid down the law, she was going into rehab; a thirty day program, non negotiable.

Now here she was being treated like a criminal, waiting for some smart ass doctor to tell her she was an addict.

She glared at the mirror, her pale image made even more so by the harsh lighting.

A few minutes later, tired from her fast pacing, Sara went to a chair and plopped down, her dark hair falling over her eyes, shielding her from any unwanted scrutiny. She sat quietly at first, taking deep breaths, but then she started thinking about the events that had led up to her admittance to this prison.

Try as she might she couldn't really remember much, just a guy with short dark hair and glasses… Was he real?

She shook her head to clear the fog. Yes, he had been real, she was sure of it… Michael…

She wasn't sure what he had to do with anything, but still she was happy to have retrieved even this small portion of her last night of freedom.

She looked down at her hands and noticed the slight tremble present, signaling that she would need a fix soon.

She felt her stomach lurch as a new fear gripped her, and started to grow.

What was going to happen to her?

(Michael)

(29 days later)

The case was cold, that is until three days ago.

There had been no new correspondence from the individual threatening the Governor and his family.

But then the package arrived.

The package containing photos of the Governor and his daughter; photos of Sara in the garden of the posh rehabilitation facility, the location of which only a select few had been privy to. The package had lit the fire that was needed to make the case priority one again.

Michael wiped the sweat from his brow as he rounded the bend of track, his thoughts flying fast over the events of the passed few days.

He was to be put back into play soon, tomorrow in fact.

He was due for another debriefing in an hour. At which time he would be given instructions on how to move forward in his infiltration into the life of the Governor's daughter.

He looked at his watch and deciding he had time for another quick lap around the track he sped up, his runner's legs stretching out, eating the pavement and spitting it out behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

(Sara)

Her first day home went pretty much as Sara had expected. It sucked. She was 'clean', yes, and had every intention of staying that way, but her father, Frontier Frank was doubtful. She could see it in the way her looked at her. She knew he was just waiting for her to mess up and smack up. And he had made it more than clear that a druggie daughter was not welcome in his home. The Sara that went into rehab would have mentally flipped him the bird and headed straight to her dealer.

The Sara who came out, while still of a mind to send him the Ol' tweetie, had other reasons for staying away from heroin. While inside she had met a woman, Sandy, who had started using at Sara's age. The woman was now 27, but looked at least twenty years older. And her story was enough to scare even the most devote addict straight.

Sara had left with a slightly different attitude towards using, but now that she was 'free' she was feeling antsy. While inside it had been easy to stay clean; scoring had been impossible. But now that she was home, a fix was only a phone call away.

She was pacing the floor, her body itching with need, a purely psychological need at this point; she no longer suffered from the hell of physical withdrawals, when the doorbell rang.

She made her way to the door and threw it open, any distraction from her thoughts welcome.

"What are you doing here?" The words flew from her mouth.

But she was glad to see him; hell the grim reaper would have been welcome if he could keep her from making that phone call.

"Forget it just come in," She grabbed him and pulled him inside.

"So? What are you doing here?"

He smiled and held up some books and folders.

"Am I psychic…What you want, Michael?"

"I'm you're tutor, Sara, small world, huh?"

She stood looking at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Yeah, minuscule."

She remembered her father saying something about a tutor to help her get caught up at school, but this guy? She sighed and shut the door.

"Come on I'll get us some cola."

He followed her to the kitchen and plopped down the books and folders.

"I figured we could go over some stuff and see how much you have missed, and then I'll work out a schedule for us to follow."

Was this guy for real?

"Why don't we just start somewhere and not make this a life long objective?"

He laughed. "Okay we'll just start somewhere. Where do want to start?"

Sara just stared at him. "I don't care, just pick something."

She had a feeling this was going to be a long day.

Two hours had passed and Sara was suffering from severe data overload. Michael was like a machine, the freakin' energizer bunny of academia. She was studying him boldly when he looked up.

"How do you know all this stuff? I mean why do you know it so well? It's so… dry."

They were engrossed in her Art history text book, well Michael was anyways; Sara had been picking at the little pieces of paper stuck in the rings of her note pad for the last fifteen minutes.

"I dunno, I guess I just kind of have a thing for knowledge?"

She nodded, totally not getting it, but decided she didn't really care. It made sense that her father would hire a total brainiac to tutor her. He always did take the overkill approach.

She studied him some more, a question totally irrelevant to learning coming to mind.

"Why did you help me that night? I mean after the rude way I dismissed you, why didn't you just walk away?"

He met her eyes and then pushed up his glasses.

"I dunno, I guess I just thought you needed someone to make sure you were okay. I didn't see any of your friends around to do it, so…" He was looking at her book, but then his eyes met hers.

"Yeah, my friends were probably passed out somewhere, so thanks for, um… thanks."

Michael smiled, his glasses sliding forward on his nose again.

"You're welcome, Sara, anytime."

And then his nose was back in the book leaving her to study him.

She had to admit he was pretty cute for a nerd. Not really her type, no piercings or tattoos. And he dressed like most of the guys she shunned at school. Still he did have nice eyes.

"So in which pieces was the basic theme of silence vividly portrayed?"

He looked up to see her staring at him. Sara blinked. "Um...what?" Michael took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair looking at her.

He took off his glasses to rub at his eyes, squinting a little.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Um, Sunflowers?"

He just looked at her for a minute and then shoved his glasses back on. "Let's read through this again, okay?"

(Michael)

He eased down onto the couch, his body feeling like he had just run a marathon. If someone would have told him yesterday that tutoring a seventeen year old girl would be so draining he would have laughed in their face.

But now…He rubbed a hand over his face and closed his eyes. Sara was something all right. He just wasn't sure what to make of her. She seemed different somehow, but then he had to remind himself this was the first time he had seen her when she wasn't strung out on smack. But maybe just maybe rehab had had a positive effect on her.

Part of his job was to look for signs of her drug use, and if and when she did shoot up, she would be tucked safely away for another thirty day stint.

That was a report he was hoping not to have to make. He wanted this case. No he needed this case. Sitting around waiting the last thirty days had been torture.

Feeling his energy renewed as his mind wrapped around the particulars of the case he jumped up and headed for his computer. He knew he would have to bone up on pre-calculus if he were to keep up his flawless nerdy façade.


	5. Chapter 5

SARA

Sara leaned against her locker with an audible sigh. The first day back at school hadn't been so bad, but then 'they' hadn't been here yesterday, they had all ditched to buy tickets to the Fluid pain concert. They, being her friends; her friends who upon seeing her back today, fresh out of rehab presented her with a present, said present being a syringe full of smack.

She had shoved it into her backpack and tried to forget about it, but it was all she could think of the last few hours, as she moved from one class and on to the next. She had managed to avoid temptation all afternoon, but now it was time to go home, home to an empty house.

Well not totally empty. There were the guys on guard outside the house. Her father had reassured her it was merely precautionary, like she gave a damn or something. As long as he didn't make her drag around a dead weight, no neck goon, she was okay with it.

She turned around and grabbed her backpack up off the floor, knowing she really had no reason to be there anymore, and not really wanting to draw attention to herself or her goodie bag.

She was walking down the hall when he closed his locker and turned around.

"Hey, Sara. On your way home?"

No duh, was on her lips, but she clamped her mouth shut and nodded.

"Yeah, um, I was."

Suddenly hit with an idea, "Ah I was wondering if you wanted to hang out for a while? I mean we have a home theater and tons of movies..."

She held her breath waiting for him to say no, but instead he smiled. 

"Yeah, okay. But don't you have homework? I mean I know you have makeup work, but unless you're really quick you have the same paper due that I have. And Mr. Majeski will be pissed if we're late turning them in."

She had stood staring at him as he motor mouthed. And now she blinked twice before answering, her eyes showing her annoyance. Did the guy only think about school? Did he think of nothing else? She bit back her rude remark, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth, and smiled.

"Um, sure we could work on that if you want. I mean why not, you're right I do have a paper due, and old Mr. Majeski will shit bricks if I'm late on top of all the time I have missed."

Sara threw her backpack over her shoulder and followed him out.

She listened as he went on and on about the paper and then tuned him out. She was just relieved he had said yes. She knew the syringe in her backpack would start looking better and better the closer she got to home, but with him there to distract her, she would at least have a fighting chance.

Sara watched as he packed up his books, her panic growing. They had made a good dent in their paper's for Mr. Majeski's class and then watched a movie. But soon after Michael had started yawning.

She turned to him now, an invitation to stay for hot chocolate, or tea, anything to keep him from leaving, on her lips.

"I'd better go." 

He yawned again and grabbed his book bag.

"Wait! Um, Michael...Here take this with you. I don't care what you do with it, just get it away from me!"

She was rifling through her backpack looking for the syringe as she spoke. She wrapped her fingers around it and pulled it out. He backed up a little as if in surprise.

"Here, just take it. Throw it away, I don't care."

He was studying her intently.

"Why do you have it if you don't want it?"

Sara looked down at the syringe in her hand.

"I do want it, that's the problem, Michael. But I didn't buy it if that's what you mean. It was a gift...My friends..."

He reached and took it from her hand. 

"Well if you ask me they're not very good friends if they want you to shoot this stuff into your veins."

Sara felt her defenses come up.

"Yeah, well I didn't ask you to analyze my choice in friends, I asked you to throw the shit away...You know what? Forget it!" She reached to take it back but his hand was quick, his fingers closing over it.

"I'll take care of it, Sara."

Sara sighed and turned around in an attempt to hide the weakness she was sure was plastered all over her face.

"Good. 'Cause I'm through with it," she said with determination.

She turned back to see him studying her. 

"I thought you had to leave?"

He nodded, "Yeah, but I can stay a little longer if you want...I mean if you wanna talk?"

Sara looked at the syringe in his fist, and then into his eyes.

"Yeah, okay. I could make some hot chocolate, or tea?"

Michael smiled. "Sounds good."

MICHAEL

Michael took a sip of his hot chocolate and grimaced when Sara wasn't looking. It was probably the worst tasting cocoa he had ever had. He set it aside and cleared his throat, as he sped through the memorized list of her interests. 

"So, are you going to the Fluid pain concert this weekend?" 

She looked at him in surprise.

"You like Fluid pain?"

He laughed softly his mind whirring away.

"Sure, what's not to like? Fast, loud, morbid. The three staples of rock."

Sara shook her head, but laughed.

"I guess I'll be going. You?"

Michael nodded. He was sure he would be going now.

"Yeah, I get free tickets sometimes... my brother owns a club."

He figured this little bit of truth was harmless enough. Sara had no idea who his brother was. Lincoln owning a club was as safe a story as any other. Besides he had learned that keeping it simple kept you from tripping up.

"Maybe I'll see you there?" He said it casually hoping she would suggest he come along with her and her friends.

It would make his job of watching her at the concert a great deal easier if he were right there beside her.

Instead she just shrugged.

"You never know."

He looked at his watch. It was almost 11:00 on a school night.

"It's getting pretty late. I should probably go."

Sara nodded.

"Oh, okay. I'll um, I'll walk you to the door. That way the goons out front won't think you're breaking in instead of leaving. I swear their shoe size is bigger then their I Q's."

Michael had to bite his tongue. Not only were the guys out front terrific agents, they were also his friends.

He cleared his throat and turned to her.

"So, I guess I'll see you at school tomorrow?"

Sara leaned against the open door.

"Yeah, considering that you're in all of my classes, I think it's safe to say you'll probably see me." 

He just looked at her for second. He had wondered if his being in all of her classes would seem suspicious, but it hadn't been his call.

"I hadn't noticed."

Sara stood looking at him, rubbing her arms against the cool breeze blowing in from the open door.

"Well, goodnight, Sara. And um, thanks for the movie."

"Michael, um wait a second. Would you like to um, hang with me and my friends at the concert this weekend? I mean unless you're already going with someone?"

Michael grinned trying to hide his relief.

"Yeah, I mean no, I'm not going with anyone. I would like that, Sara."

"Great, I'll, um, let you know the details later."

She was still leaning on the door, so when she suddenly stepped forward and hugged him he was taken by surprise.

Her body was warm and firm against him, and the faint scent of her perfume took his breath for a second. He pulled back and stumbled a little.

"Um, I'll, ah, see you tomorrow. In school. Goodnight, Sara."

He turned and jogged quickly down the stairs, his hasty retreat in character with a shy school nerd who had just been hugged by a hot girl, while his insides were those of a twenty four year old male who was too busy for a social life and hadn't been laid in over six months.

He made his way to his car. Once inside he leaned his head back against the seat and took a deep breath. He had gone over all possible scenarios in his head as to how this would play out, but he hadn't even considered she might start to like him.

He took another deep breath and let it out slowly. Was she starting to like him? He rubbed a hand over his face. She definitely was not. She was merely grateful he had taken the syringe full of smack off her hands.

Pretty much convinced he was right, he sat forward and started the car.

As he pulled away he told himself either way it didn't matter, he was a professional and he would behave in a professional manner.

He was half way home when he realized he could still smell her perfume.


	6. Chapter 6

(Sara)

Sara watched him for a few minutes, her eyes drawn to his mouth as he chewed on his pencil.

She thought back to the night before when she had hugged him. It was a funny thing too, because she hadn't really intended to do it. And last night she had chalked it up to sheer gratitude that he had agreed to get rid of the syringe for her. But now as she studied him she couldn't help but wonder how it might feel to kiss him.

She shook her head and pulled her eyes from his mouth. She was obviously still suffering from some kind of withdrawals. Or maybe it was just that she hadn't been laid in a while. 'Cause Michael so wasn't her type. He was too…well smart for one thing, and too uptight and well, 'good'.

But still…She sighed softly and he looked up at her, his blue gray eyes questioning.

She looked at him her eyes moving to his mouth and back to his eyes. She knew she was being teasingly wicked, but so what? What was he going to do about it; that is if he even figured out what she was doing, maybe run away again?

"How's it coming?" His question startled her from her thoughts.

"It's not. I hate this shit, Michael. And it's not like I even care about school. I just want out of here."

Michael closed her pre-calc book and placed it aside.

"What do want to do when you get out of high school, Sara? I mean, you don't wanna live here with your dad, right? I mean when you say you want out of here, you mean this house, this city, right?"

When she didn't say anything he continued.

"Sara, if you really want out of here half as much as you say do…"

He pushed her pre-calc book towards her.

She didn't say anything for a minute, but then her eyes moved from the book back to his face. He looked different somehow; older.

She laughed and shook her head. "You're so full of it, Michael. How much extra does he pay you for the pep talks? I mean my dad is so lucky to have found such an awesome tutor full of such uplifting words of wisdom." She said this in mock teenage drama.

She stood and pushed her chair in hard, knocking it over in the process.

"Sara, wait!"

His words met her back as she left the room.

(Michael)

He knocked softly, unsure if he should even be knocking at all. Maybe he should just leave and try to talk to her later at school? That way she would have a chance to cool down. But what if she was on the other side of that door with a needle poised and ready to go?

He sighed and knocked a little harder.

"What do you want, Michael?" Her words were sharp despite the door separating them.

"Can I come in?"

He was about to give up when her voice, much lower this time, came through the door.

"It's not locked."

He hesitated for a moment, his mind replaying the whole scene leading up to this moment; her eyes on him intently as he studied the text book. And then the seductive way she had moved her gaze from his lips to his eyes.

Her behavior had resulted in his need to lecture her; to be the adult. Thus enforcing within himself that he wasn't her peer, and her flirting with him was not to be encouraged.

He took a deep breath now and pushed open the door. She was just as he had pictured her, sitting on her bed hugging her knees.

He walked into the room and pulled up the chair he had spent an uncomfortable night in a little over a month ago.

He sat down, he eyes never leaving her, while she had yet to even glance up at him.

"Sara, I'm sorry. What I said was...It's just that I see you differently, that's all."

She looked up at him curiously.

"You see me differently? Differently then what?"

He put his hands together and leaned forward a little.

"Differently then you see yourself, I guess; differently then your friends see you. I see someone who is smart and...um...pretty...someone who has a lot going for her if she will just look in the right direction, maybe make a few changes."

She was looking at him, but he had averted his eyes as he spoke trying to stay in character. No way would the school geek make eye contact as he stumbled though the you're pretty and special speech with any girl, much less a girl who looked like Sara. And he wasn't lying. He did think she was pretty.

And he knew from her test scores as a child that she was also highly intelligent. It was only when she hit middle school that her grades had fallen.

When almost a full minute had passed without a word from her he figured it was okay to look up.

She was looking at him, her coppery eyes hit by the sunlight from the window making them fairly glow.

"I'm not so special, Michael. I'm just me."

She looked down at her hands studying them intently.

After a few beats..."I want it everyday, Michael, the drugs. I thought I could do it, you know? But now I think maybe I was just kidding myself. Maybe I'm not strong enough to change."

She hugged herself again, her thin arms wrapped around her body making her look more frail then he knew her to be a she made this all important confession. He knew this was a big deal; her opening up to him.

She had leaned forward, until there was only a foot of space between them, and he made himself look up into her eyes.

"I can help you, Sara. I mean anytime you feel like you're going to slip...if someone gives you another 'present?"

She smiled. "You'd do that? Why, Michael? I mean I haven't been exactly nice to you. I mean yeah, recently I have been okay to you, but I had an ulterior motive. I wanted you here so I wouldn't use."

He was surprised she had admitted this, but also impressed by her honesty.

"Well there you go, I'm already doing it," he smiled, trying to make light of it, and at the same time avoid her question as to why he would be willing to let her use him.

"Okay, then. It's official, you're my body guard. Protector from me," she joked.

He tried to laugh, but was hit with a fit of coughing as his spit traveled down the wrong tube.

He leaned back away from her, and covered his mouth.

"Are you okay? Do want some water or something?"

He shook his head. "No, um, I'm fine."

He cleared his throat.

"Maybe we should get back to work? I mean if your dad comes home and..."

"Relax Michael. It wouldn't be the first time old Frank caught me with a guy in my room."

But she hopped up all the same and he stood in to follow her, a wave of relief washing through him.

(Chapter End Notes:)

This will be my last post for a bit. I leave for vacation May 4th and won't be back till the 9th. Thanks for all of the comments, they are greatly appreciated.


	7. Chapter 7

"This is going to be so hot!"

Michael couldn't help but smile at Sara's enthusiasm. She was fairly beaming, her smile radiant. He couldn't remember ever having seen her like this; happy and carefree like any other teenage girl on her way to a concert.

He glanced quickly at his watch. He knew they had to stay on schedule if things were to run smoothly. He urged her along silently as they walked the cracked cement leading up to the theater entrance.

There was an up side and a down side to the location of the concert. Fluid Pain being a fledgling band was starting out in small venues. And while this was helpful in some ways it made things more difficult in others, one being the fact that security wouldn't be as tight in a smaller venue. But they had added several men to make up for the lack of security and Michael would know their locations at all times.

The upside was that unlike a huge stadium it would be less open and easier to canvas. At least there was an upside.

He bent down and adjusted his pant leg making sure his ankle holster was hidden safely from sight. It would be disastrous if Sara or one of her friends were to see the bulge and call him out.

He followed Sara into the theater entrance and stopped. He grabbed her arm when she kept walking.

"Where did you say your friends were meeting us?"

He remembered exactly where and only listened with half an ear as she told him again. He had merely needed to stall while he looked the place over. He took in his surroundings quickly and efficiently and then followed Sara to the lines in front of security.

He stepped into the line behind the many black clad males to await his turn.

When he stepped forward he met the agent in charge of the door's eyes. The man gave nothing away as he asked Michael to step forward to be frisked. He patted Michael down, his hand moving expertly over the concealed weapon resting against his ankle. When this was complete he swept Michael's body with a hand held metal detector, his thumb clicking it off as it passed over the gun. Once 'clear' Michael stepped aside and leaned against the wall waiting for Sara to make her way through the line of girls waiting to be frisked by the female guard on duty that night.

Sara smirked as the woman ran her hands along her body. She was wearing a black dress that hugged her curves nicely and Michael made himself look away for what had to be the tenth time since picking her up that evening.

He looked up when she joined him. She was smiling again, her eyes alight with excitement.

"Come on, let's go meet the guys."

Michael nodded and took a deep breath. He was about to be put to the test. This would be the first time he had hung out with Sara's black clothed friends. He had a feeling he wouldn't be a welcome sight in his black t-shirt and jeans.

XXXXX

He saw the look on the guy's face and knew right away there was a history there. There had been something between the kid and Sara, he was sure of it. The hostility was a tangible thing hanging heavy around him as they walked up.

"Hey, Jeff." Sara nodded, but her smile was measured, and then her eyes were back on Michael.

"This is Michael. Guys!" She repeated loudly to get the other four youths attention. "This is Michael. Be nice to him okay?"

Michael noticed the look of bored annoyance the four shared, but it was nothing compared to the daggers Jeff was aiming his way.

"Hey," he said and raised his hand in greeting.

Then they were all talking and he was being ignored for the most part.

He felt Jeff's eyes on him and met his glare with a steady look of his own. And then remembering he was a geek and not the school tough guy he forced himself to look away as if intimidated. He was looking down at the floor as Jeff approached him.

"I know you. I mean I've seen you around, at school. What I can't figure is what Sara sees in you. I mean you're not even her type. You're too…"

"Smart?" Michael couldn't help himself. This guy was really starting to bug him and he wasn't sure why. He was just a punk kid.

He just wanted the guy to disappear so he could do his job without feeling like he was going to be jumped if he turned his back on him.

"You never know. I mean opposites attract, right?"

He went to walk away, but Jeff grabbed his arm.

"I'm watching you, man. You don't fool me."

Michael pulled his arm way and backed up from him, his eyes intense. There was no way the guy even had a clue about him.

Michael shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about, 'man'."

Sara was looking at the two of them. She came up and whispered in Jeff's ear. He shook his head but backed off leaving them alone.

"What's with your friend?"

Sara shrugged. "I don't know…Jeff is…well he's Jeff. Just ignore him."

She took his hand and pulled him over to where the rest of her friends were standing. He listened as the two guys and two girls discussed the drummer of Fluid Pain as if her were their own personal God, and then tuned them out. He scanned the area and let his eyes move back to Sara. She was looking at him.

"Come on let's…"

"Looky what I brought to the party."

Jeff was back and he had a small baggy in his hand. He stepped closer and dipped his hand into the bag. Sara held out her hand and he placed a small hit of X in it. Michael played dumb, but he knew it on sight.

"What is that?"

Jeff smiled snidely. "It's your ticket in my friend. Eat it or get lost."

Sara was opening her mouth probably to defend him, when Michael took the small pill from her hand and popped it into his mouth.


	8. Chapter 8

Sara couldn't believe what she was seeing; straight laced Michael had just popped a hit of X?

She watched him swallow hard and meet Jeff's angry eyes. She should have known this would happen. Jeff was still after her.

They had had a thing for a few weeks right before she was busted and sent to rehab. But she had ended it. She couldn't stand the way he tried to own her when they were together. It hadn't been enough for him that the sex was great and intense. No, he had to go and buy her that stupid ring.

She pushed the whole nightmare episode out of her head and looked back to Michael. She watched the stare down end with a shrug from Jeff and then he pulled out another hit and held it out to her.

She was reaching for it when Michael grabbed her hand.

"Let's take a walk, okay?"

She was about to protest that she didn't want to be the only one not tripping, but thought better of it and followed him, looking back only once at the proffered hit still held in her now scowling ex-boyfriend's hand.

When they were around the corner, Michael reached into his mouth and pulled out the small pill. She felt her mouth drop open and clamped it shut. So he had only pretended to take X? She was confused. 

"What are you doing, Michael?"

He didn't answer. She watched him toss the soggy hit into the waste can and then he turned to her and smiled.

"You're friend thinks I took it, so now he'll leave me alone."

Sara shook her head, feeling the smile as it spread across her face.

"You're crazy. But I have to admit, that was pretty hot! And the look on Jeff's face was priceless!"

Michael was smiling.

"Shh, don't give me away. So how does one act when on X? Just so I don't blow this."

Sara couldn't help but laugh. "You're seriously going to go that far?"

Michael shook his head. "Nah, if he figures it out I'll just claim high tolerance." 

Sara laughed even harder at this coming from Mr. Straight and narrow. When she could breathe again she grabbed his hand.

"Come on, they'll be starting soon and I wanna be so close we scare the band."

The band was loud, making it almost impossible to hear what she was saying. He thought maybe she had screamed something about misty beer, but that couldn't be it, could it?

He watched her move closer to her pal with the black lipstick; a girl of about fifteen at the most. She was wearing a torn black skirt with lacy ruffles and black boots that ended just below the knee, and obviously they were bought with the sole purpose of hiding the small plastic flask she had shoved down inside one of them.

He watched as Sara took the bottled to her lips and emptied a good portion of the dark liquid down her throat. This was great, just great. Now he was going to have to deal with a drunken teenager for the remainder of the night. But better alcohol then X. 

He sighed and pushed his way towards the two girls. Sara held out the flask and he shook his head. She dumped another good sized portion down her throat and handed it to the girl who drained it. 

Michael felt a small amount of relief that the flask was empty, but it was short lived, as he watched the girl pull out another small flask and take a gulp before offering it up to Sara. 

What the hell didn't she have in those boots? He wanted to yank Sara away from the walking bar, but he didn't want to push it. He watched as she tipped up the flask and emptied it. That was a lot of alcohol for a small girl.

She leaned in close and shouted something to him that once again he couldn't quite make out, and then she was gone.

What the hell?

He pushed through the sweaty bodies and saw her heading towards the stage. He shoved his way towards her just trying to keep her in his sights. She was gone again. Damn it!

He scanned the area looking for her, but she was nowhere to be seen.

He was about to alert the other agents in the theater that he had lost sight of her when he saw her. She was on the stage.

He stepped back and watched as she tipped her head back, the bright lights shining against her auburn/black streaked hair, her skin so white, almost translucent. He felt his breath leave him. She was beautiful standing up there. He wasn't sure how long he stood staring, mere seconds most likely, and then he made himself move, his eyes never leaving her.

He watched as she began to spin in a circle and then dived into the crowd of teenagers. His heart skipped a beat, and then with a forced calm he took a guess at where she had landed and shoved his way through. She wasn't there.

He turned in a circle scanning the pissed off faces of the other concert goers looking for her. 

And then he saw her.

He let out his breath and pushed his way to her. She smiled when she saw him and then she was in his arms. He felt her body against him and his arms went up around her automatically. He felt a moment of panic at her closeness and was about to pull away when she turned in his arms and leaned her back against his chest, clamping her hands over his which rested at her waist.

And then she leaned her head against the side of his face, her hair soft against his cheek. He knew he should pull away, but he didn't. He couldn't. She felt so good in his arms. His heart was beating fast and he wondered if she could feel it against her back, and then she was moving against him; her lithe body shifting just so. He felt his breath catch in his throat.

No, he couldn't let this happen. But it was happening. He felt himself harden as she moved. And then he jumped away from her. He moved so fast she almost fell backwards, but managed to right herself.

She turned to him, a hurt, confused look playing across her features for only a second and then he saw that barrier come up. Her eyes went flat and she turned and pushed her way through the crowd to get away from him.

He moved after her, not sure how to fix things, but he had to. He couldn't let her go off somewhere by herself.

He saw her up ahead and shoved harder against the throng of sweaty black clothed youths. She was headed for the hall.

He saw her go through the doorway and shoved his way through.

"Sara, wait!"

She didn't even turn around. He ran up behind her and grabbed her arm.

"Wait, please!"

She pulled her arm roughly away and looked at him stonily.

"What do you want?"

She was angry, her spine stiff.

"I'm sorry, I mean, I didn't…I wasn't expecting that and it was…just don't go, okay? Just let me explain?"

His mind was whirring through any and all possible explanations he could offer her. He skidded passed using shyness as an excuse, and opened his mouth, the words tumbling out.

"I'm gay, Sara. I mean…I'm gay."

He watched her eyes widen in disbelief and then she blinked.

"Whoa...What?"

He made himself meet her eyes. "I'm gay… I like guys, okay? That's why I pulled away. It's not you, it's me."

She stared at him for a few beats, and then, "My gaydar totally missed that. Wow…I mean Wow! Um, I'm sorry…I mean, I thought you were into me, obviously. This is…" She lowered her head letting her hair fall across her face. 

"Its okay, Sara… I mean, I'm not 'out' so I tend to hide it as much as possible."

She nodded. "You're good at it."

She turned and started walking.

"Wait, Sara." He grabbed her arm and she stopped.

"We're still…friends, right?"

She looked at him for a second and then nodded, "Yeah, but I have to pee. So, unless you wanna girlfriend up, I'll be back in a few minutes."

He stood watching as she headed for the restroom.

He let out his breath in a sigh of relief, and then mumbling under his breath, he moved to the wall to wait for her.

"Gay, Scofield?...Shit."

XXXXXX

(Sara)

Sara studied her reflection in the mirror. She was a little drunk she had to admit, but in no way could she use her slight inebriation for an excuse as to how she was feeling.

Gay? How could Michael be gay?

She turned on the water full blast and splashed her face, heedless to the fact that it would ruin her make-up. What did it matter? Her 'date' was gay.

She grabbed a few paper towels and dried off, and then tossed them to the litter strewn floor.

She had to admit she was disappointed as well as a little pissed. She tried to remind herself that she had only been playing with Michael, but she knew that was bull; the disappointment at his revelation was too strong to be chalked up to merely that of the end of a simple game of teasing. She liked him.

She squeezed her eyes closed and took a deep breath. So maybe she could change his mind? No. She had a few gay friends and all of them insisted it wasn't a choice with them. It was just who they were.

"Shit!" Her voice echoed loudly against the tiles of the dirty restroom.

But maybe it was better this way? She never had been good at relationships. She always blew it when things got going. This way Michael could keep her straight… Ha, ha, and the tension of a relationship wouldn't be there.

She looked at her pale face in the mirror and sighed. Yeah, she could do this. She could still be friends with him. Maybe even set him up with one of her other gay friends? Maybe.

She moved away from the sink and made her way out of the bathroom.

He smiled shyly at her from his place against the wall. She let her eyes run over him and sighed inwardly, thinking, what a waste.

She smiled back and made her way over to him.

"Let's go back in, we're missing everything!"

His smile widened at her words and he slipped his hand into hers.

"Lead the way, Madame!"

She looked sideways at him and shook her head. Madame? So gay!

(A few days later)

"You're coming, right?"

He looked up from the magazine he was reading.

"What?"

He laid it open against his bare chest and looked at her.

"My Birthday dinner, thingy?"

Sara winced at the mere thought of the stuffy dinner her father subjected her to every year on her Birthday. The only hope she had of actually surviving it would be if Michael was there too.

"Yeah, of course," he smiled and leaned back against the deck chair.

They were at the indoor pool at the club.

Sara sighed in relief. "Good, cause if I have to suffer, my best friend should too."

She saw a strange look flit across his features and then he was smiling. 

"That's what best friends are for, right?"

She nodded and stood up. She was adjusting her bikini when she felt his eyes on her. She looked up and his eyes shifted away.

"Were you just checking me out, Scofield? " She had to tease. 

"What?...Um…no, I was um, thinking you're too skinny. You need to eat more. You never eat. How can you never eat?"

She kicked playfully at him. "Shut up already, I was joking!"

He laughed and stood up. "So was I, you're perfect. If I wasn't gay…"

She met his eyes. "But you are gay."

"As gay as they come." He agreed.

"Right, so let's go swimming, girlfriend!"

"Don't call me that, please!"

But she was already diving in; his words lost to the sound of her body hitting the water.

He had been checking her out. And it was true; she was perfect in every way.

He thought about her statement; her saying he was her best friend and pushed his guilty conscience aside. He was there to protect her, that was his job, and all else was to remain insignificant to the case.

His resolve hardened, he watched her now as she moved through the water and then tore his eyes away. He had been doing this all morning. That was until he had buried his nose in a magazine.

And then when she had stood up... He took a deep breath at the thought of all that milky white skin, the black bikini only making her skin look all the more radiant.

Gay, indeed. If only he could be so lucky. He so needed to get laid!

But he knew it wasn't just that. There was something about Sara. Something sweet and yet...

He sighed and pulled his thoughts out of the gutter.

Now where did she go?

He was making a circle looking for her when she jumped onto his back. He felt her wet skin against him and pulled her around, her arms dropping naturally around his neck. She was laughing, but something in his face must have given him away, because her eyes turned serious.

He pulled away quickly, and swam a little ways away from her, just needing some space before she brushed up against him and realized just how terrible a liar he really was.

She moved away a little and then glanced back up at him.

"Um, did I do something wrong or something? I mean every time I get close to you, you freak out or something. I'm not trying to make any moves on you, or anything. I'm just…"

"No, God, no, I mean, its okay. I just…I dunno. It feels um…"

"Good?" Her voice was hesitant.

He met her eyes across the pool. 

"No, not good, just uncomfortable," he lied.

She laughed a little and shook her head. "I'm good at that; making people uncomfortable. Just ask my dad."

She was climbing out and he watched her, his eyes moving over the wet bikini and how it stuck to her skin.

He forced his eyes away and focused on a point just above her head. If he didn't stop looking at her it was going to be quite some time before he would be able to get out of the pool.

"Are you going to stay in?"

"Yeah, I figured I could use a few laps."

"Yeah, right, like you really need it, " she said softly, but he missed her last words as he pushed off and began to swim towards the other side of the pool.


	9. Chapter 9

(Michael)

Michael hung up the phone. He had just spent a good thirty minutes talking to Lincoln, before finally finding the nerve to bring up the real reason behind his call.

His brother had been trying to set him up with someone for the last six months, ever since Michael's somewhat serious relationship with his ex, Kristen had ended… badly.

He sighed now and wondered if he was doing the right thing. Though Linc had assured him that Angela was a sure thing, and not really looking for anything more then a good time, Michael still wasn't sure. 

Was this really what he wanted? He knew the answer to that question, but wouldn't let himself think about it. Besides it had been far too long since he had been with anyone, and maybe if he spent a little time with someone it would make being around Sara a little easier to handle?

He leaned back against the couch and sighed. He hadn't really been expecting his brother to suggest they hook up with the girls tonight, but he had no legitimate excuse for not hooking up, so it was a date. He was due at his brother's club around 8:00.

He had just sat forward and was about to head for the shower when his cell phone rang. Sara.

He looked at it as it rang and then pushed the button answering her call.

"Hey, Sara."

He listened to her voice come over the line and leaned back closing his eyes.

"Hey, come over tonight, okay?"

She sounded a little upset, but then that wasn't an unusual thing with her.

"Um, I can't…I ah… I'm hanging out with my brother tonight."

His semblance of the truth bothered him.

He listened to her silence and when she finally spoke he told himself what he heard in her voice wasn't a close reflection of the disappointment he himself was feeling at not seeing her.

She softly said goodbye and he clicked the phone closed against his chest.

Yep, he needed this…badly. But he had a feeling it would take more than one hot night with a hottie from his brother's club to get his mind off the unattainable. 

Sighing deeply, he headed for the shower.

(Sara)

Sara put down the phone and closed her eyes, her fight with her father still ringing in her ears. She had wanted to tell Michael about it, but somehow when he said he was busy, she had lost her nerve.

She didn't want him to feel obligated to spend time with her, but still the fight had been pretty bad. And now her father was off to some function and she was left alone to dwell on it.

It was times like this she missed smack the most. Heroin was a good cure all when it came to making one forget.

She sighed and rubbed her track marks. They ached with a psychological need that was scary at times. She knew this was probably just her imagination, but still…She rolled off the bed and paced the floor, her eyes moving to the phone. 

All it would take was one phone call and she could be flying again. No!

She took a deep breath. She could do this. She didn't have to have Michael holding her hand through every tough situation. She sank onto her bed her two-toned locks falling over her eyes. She sat like this for a few minutes concentrating on just breathing. And then she had an idea.

She hopped up and began searching for what she knew had to be somewhere. And then she remembered. She pulled out her top drawer and flipped it over, heedless of the fact that her entire selection of underwear and bras now lay at her feet.

With a satisfied smile she ripped the fake ID off the back of the drawer and then slid it back into place. 

She then made her way to her father's room. She pushed open his door and went to his bathroom. She found what she was looking for quickly and then headed back to her room to get ready.

Maybe drugs were out of the question, but she had no problem with a little alcohol to help her through a tough night.

A few sleeping pills in a steaming cup of coffee would take out the goon on duty and then she could slip out unnoticed.

She smiled at her reflection as she touched up her make-up. This should be fun.


	10. Chapter 10

(Sara)

Sara paid the Cab driver and headed towards the door of the club, her back straight and her head held high. If she was going to BS her way inside she needed to act not like she wanted to be there, but like they should be glad she had chosen to show up at all, and not one of the many other clubs down the street.

She got a nod from the bouncer on duty, his eyes on her black skirt and thigh high boots, not the plastic in her hand. Sara thought maybe she could have been holding her grade school library card and he would have nodded her in.

She shook what little junk she had in her trunk as she walked in, the bouncer's eyes and her black dress clinging to her curves with every movement. She smirked as she made her way to the bar, her confidence on high as man after man ogled her in passing.

She was almost there when she barreled into a guy with his shirt half way unbuttoned.

"Sorry, I didn't see you there," he said and hurried passed her.

So apparently she wasn't Button's type? She hopped up onto the bar stool and the bartender placed a drink in front of her.

"I didn't order this."

He nodded to the guy across the bar from her, some weaselly little guy with a bad perm.

She pushed the drink back at him.

"No thanks," I have plastic."

She shoved her card forward and ordered a Jack and coke. He hurried off to fill her order, and she let her eyes pass over her line of sight. Finding no one of interest, her drink now in front of her, she sat forward and drained the ice cold beverage.

She hailed the bartender and ordered another, this time with a couple of shots of tequila to round it all off.

She tapped her fingers to the music and looked around again. She met the eyes of Mr. Weasel and made a face. Maybe not the most mature thing to do, but it might keep him at bay for a little while.

The drinks were set in front of her and she tipped back one of the shot glasses, letting the fiery liquid warm her belly. She set the empty aside and tipped back it's twin. And then she took up the Jack and coke. A few sips later she set the drink aside and turned her body, her eyes canvassing the bar behind her.

She pulled her eyes back with a jerk, the closely cropped head making her do an abrupt double take.

It was Michael... And he wasn't alone.

(Michael)

Michael felt her breath on his neck again. Angela would lean in when she spoke to him, her perfume filling his senses; her words eliciting sensations against his skin.

He told himself he shouldn't fight it, what was he holding back for? But he knew the answer to that question, it was a certain girl that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to banish from his thoughts. He had unsuccessfully tried to push Sara from his thoughts all night. But somehow he just couldn't. She had sounded so sad when he talked to her earlier.

He was ripped from his thoughts by Angela. She was touching him again. Her hand on his arm, her thigh against his. As her fingers slid down his arm to flip his hand over, she began to explain the fine art of palm reading, her fingers tracing the lines on his palm.

He couldn't help but smile. He didn't go in for any of that mystic crap, but he did find it amusing how some, and apparently Angela was one of them, could take it so seriously. But then again it could just be one of those things girls did because they thought it was hot; a way to touch a guy that would make him...

And it was making him hot. He had to admit it. The gentle strokes of her fingers; the wanting look in her fiery eyes... Angela was just as hot as Lincoln had promised, maybe even more so, but even as buzzed as he was, Michael knew how this night would end.

He would thank his date for a nice evening, and go home to a cold shower...Because as hot as Angela was, she wasn't what he truly wanted. He smiled again and shook his head to her question about having had many loves in his life...Nope, there hadn't been many.

(Sara)

Sara watched as the girl...woman? Ran her hand down Michael's arm and flipped his hand over. She would look at his palm as she stroked it and then smile seductively up at him as she spoke.

Sara watched Michael's reaction to this, his smile, the ease with which he reacted to the girl's ministrations, and felt her jealousy soar.

Who was this person? Why was her 'gay' best friend out with some sleazy bar woman?

She continued to watch as Michael laughed, and the girl leaned in close to whisper something in his ear.

Sara had seen enough. She slapped the wood in front of her to get the attention of the bartender.

"I need my card back...now!"

"Whoa take it easy little lady, I'll go get it."

Sara took a deep breath and told herself to just calm down, but then the alcohol in her system took over. She felt herself getting more and more angry at him.

So this was why he couldn't come over tonight? Because he had a hot date? She grabbed the card up and shoved it in her bag and then she was moving.

She stumbled off the barstool and into the weaselly guy who had apparently decided she was drunk enough to move in on.

Without a word she shoved him aside and headed towards Michael's table. She wasn't about to leave without getting some answers.

(Michael)

Michael had just removed Angela's hand from his thigh when a commotion across the room drew his attention.

Lincoln looked up and sighed. "Another drunk?"

He shook his head in disgust and stood up temporarily blocking Michael's view of the room.

"I'll be right back."

Lincoln's date stood also. "I'm going to the little girl's room... Ang?"

Angela shook her head. "No, you go on, I'm good."

Sammie smiled and shook her head. "K, I'll be right back."

"Finally alone."

Michael jumped a little as Angela's warm breath hit his neck. He smiled and moved back a little. "Um listen, I..."

"Michael?"

He looked up and there she was, hurt and anger coming off of her in waves.

"Sara...What are you doing here?"

Sara laughed bitterly at this. "What am I doing here? No, the question is, what are you doing here, and with this..."

"Hey!" Angela sat forward, her back up a little at the implications being spewed at her with such venom.

"Shut up!" Sara fairly screamed, causing the girl to jump and clamp her mouth shut against what ever she had planned on saying next.

"Sara, this isn't what you think. I can explain everything."

He stood up and moved towards her, but everything about her, the way she was stiff and so wired told him not to try to touch her just then. He stopped in front of her, his eyes locked on her face.

"Please, let's just go, okay?"

Sara laughed, that bitter sound once again falling from her lips.

"Why, are you afraid your little tramp will hear what I have to say about her date?"

He held her gaze.

"Angela has nothing to do with this. Please, Sara? Just let me take you home, okay?" He pleaded.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Well you know what? Don't bother."

She turned and ran off, her hair flying out behind her.

"I'm sorry... I have to go."

He took off after Sara leaving Angela sitting there with her mouth hanging open.

(Sara)

Sara just needed to get away. Confronting Michael had seemed like a good idea in her alcohol soaked state of mind, but the longer she stood there with him looking at her so intensely practically begging her to let him take her someplace so they could talk, the more the angry tears she was barely able to hold in check had threatened.

She pushed her way through the doors and out into the rain not caring that it was pouring, instantly soaking her in her thin dress. She looked around praying for a miracle, that a cab would pull up like they so often did in the movies, but other then a few passing cars, the streets were empty.

She shivered and hugged herself, her only option to call a cab and wait for it. She was heading out of the rain, her sights set on an overhang in front of a closed bakery when his hand clamped over her arm.

She turned to him, her tears and the rain mixed together on her wet cheeks leaving streaks of mascara.

"Leave me alone, Michael!"

She ripped her arm free and continued walking ignoring his words as he followed. After a few seconds of this he roughly turned her around his hands tightly gripping her shoulders.

"Just stop and listen, okay?"

She reached pushing her wet hair from her face and met his eyes. She hesitated and then nodded. Something about the feirce desperation in his tone causing her to comply.

"Let's go find my car and I'll take you someplace we can talk."

"I don't want to go home," she said softly, her lips trembling from the cold that had penetrated every part of her being.

"Okay, we won't go home."

She let him drape his jacket over her shoulders, the smell of him coming off of it causing her breath to catch painfully in her throat. How could she still want him after this?

She let him lead her to his car, a vehicle she had never seen before and climbed into the passenger's side. He reached and buckled her in, careful not to let his fingers so much as touch her. She noticed this and laughed sadly. She was so tired and cold.

He looked at her but didn't say anything. And then he shut the door and ran around to his side of the car. He jumped in and started the engine, his hand moving to crank the heat on.

"It'll take a few minutes to get warm in here."

She looked out the window ignoring his words. And then she turned to him, a shiver hard to conceal from her voice.

"So where are we going?"

(Michael)

"So where are we going?"

Her words were broken a little, a tremble present that he couldn't deny. When he told her they wouldn't go back to her house he hadn't really thought the whole thing through. His mind whirring quickly now, he leaned back and turned to face her.

"I know a place not far from here."

She turned away as if satisfied by his answer and looked out the rain streaked window, anywhere to avoid looking at him he realized.

He watched the side of her face for a few beats and then putting the car in gear he pulled away from the curb. He spent the short ride to his apartment finally having the chance to get his mind around what must have happened tonight.

When she called him earlier she had been upset, he knew this. And then when he refused to come over? Well that much was obvious, wasn't it?

She had fought the urge to use by doing the next best thing. She had sought out a quick alcohol fix at the club. And the smell coming off of her in the closed in car only confirmed his suspicions; she was drunk, hurt and pissed.

When they reached his place he pulled into the dark driveway and shut off the engine, the interior lights staying on for a moment before plunging them into darkness.

"Come on, that's get you into some dry clothes."

She didn't look at him, but just swung the car door open and stepped out into the rain that was still drizzling down from the overcast skies.

He joined her. He wanted to take her arm to hurry her along, but still afraid to touch her, he kept his distance.

He fitted the key into the lock and held open the door for her. And then stepping in behind her he flipped on another light. He always kept one burning as a precautionary measure, usually the kitchen light, but it only cast dim shadows of light into the living room.

He looked at her in the soft yellow light and felt his heart ache. She looked so vulnerable right now, her shoulders hunched under his thin jacket as she fought the shivering that was once again wracking her small frame; her eyes ringed with what remained of her eye make-up.

"I'll get you something dry to put on...and some towels."

He left her standing there and moved to his bedroom busying himself with getting her something to wear. He rifled through his drawer moving passed the t-shirts with FBI emblazoned on the front to find a simple white t-shirt. He then grabbed a pair of gray sweats with a drawstring closure figuring she could make them fit.

His next stop was the linen closet where he kept his towels. He grabbed two and headed into the living room.

She was sitting in a chair unzipping her boots when he entered the room. He stopped in his tracks and watched her ease one long leg after the other out of their tight black enclosures.

He took a deep breath and she looked up as he continued into the room.

"Here, you should get out of that dress, before you catch cold or something."

She nodded, and placing her boots aside she stood up and pulled the wet dress up over her head. He took in her goose pimpled flesh and the beauty of her, his whole body groaning within. And then he blinked and averted his eyes before turning away.

"What, you're still gay, right?"

He couldn't help but hear the bitter edge her words held.

"Um, yeah, I'm still...Sara."

He stood with his back to her as she dressed, and began yet another lie to cover his ass.

"I got tricked into that. My brother Lincoln set that up. I was supposed to hang out with him at the club and when I got there...He doesn't know I'm gay, Sara...I told you before...I'm not out."

He let his words hang in the air for a moment hoping she would say something.

"You can turn around...no girl skin to repulse you," she said sarcastically.

Obviously his explanation was not helping things along as much as he had hoped. He turned around, his eyes falling on her. The white t-shirt was too big, as were the sweats, but he could see the indentations of her nipples through the thin white material. He wanted to kick himself, he should have realized she would want to remove her bra as well.

"Um, I um, I'll just change and then I'll make us some coffee."

He was about to leave the room when she spoke up.

"Whose place is this Michael?"

He froze at her words and then turned back to her, yet another lie falling from his lips.

"It's Lincoln's. Well one of his places. He has two. He um, he keeps this place as um... it's close to work."

He turned back and headed for the bedroom. He wasn't aware she had followed him until she spoke behind him making him jump.

"Where are your glasses, Michael... and those clothes? They're not you, you know? Or are they?"

He stood still for a moment letting her words and the implications lie heavy in the air. And then he opened his mouth to explain.


	11. Chapter 11

"Just let me change, okay, and then I'll answer all of your questions."

Sara looked at him standing there, his shirt stuck to his body defining the muscles in his chest. And as mad as she was at him, she knew that if he were to walk across the room and take her into his arms; she knew she would save all of her questions for later…much later.

She let her eyes move to his and nodded.

And then dropping her eyes, she turned and left the room. As the door closed behind her, her mind instantly came out of the gutter and back to the questions he had promised to answer.

He said he was going to explain everything? His explanation for being at the bar had been questionable at best, and she wouldn't really be surprised by anything he had to say at this point. Like the fact that this was his brother's place? Was the brand new car his brother's as well? Just another question she was dying to hear the answer to.

He came out of the bedroom a few minutes later wearing a dark blue t-shirt and gray sweats much like the ones she was wearing except for the fact that they fit just right.

She followed him without a word as he moved to the kitchen and started making coffee. Once the dark brew was dripping into the pot he took a seat at the table. She pulled out a chair and sat down across from him, her expression she hoped, speaking the many questions whirring behind her eyes.

He took a breath and let it out, his eyes meeting hers dead on.

"I know this is crazy, Sara, this whole night has been really nuts."

She continued to look at him, looking for any sign that he was being anything but truthful. When she didn't say anything he continued.

"Anyways, I don't expect you to believe me, I mean its crazy… But my brother…I was there illegally, Sara. And when I go there I dress like I was dressed to make myself look like I belong. I was drinking… and if he was to get raided or something he could lose his liquor license…And this is his apartment whether you believe me or not. It's his car too," he said answering her next question, only looking down when he had finished speaking.

And then his eyes met hers.

"Mine broke down this morning and he let me borrow one of his…he has three."

Sara studied him closely, his eyes never leaving hers once. He seemed upset, not like he was covering things up, but more like he was worried she would be mad at him.

"What about your glasses? I mean you didn't have laser eye surgery because your brother needed you to have perfect vision for your date, did you?"

Michael laughed for a second and then grew serious.

"Um, no, I mean I have contacts…since last week. I've been too self conscience to wear them to school or anything, but I figured tonight I would try them out."

After a few beats, "Sara I didn't know it was a date. I just thought I was meeting my brother for a beer or two."

He had said all of this never once exhibiting any of the signs of a liar. And while she wasn't an expert or anything, A stomach virus had kept her in bed a few months back and thanks to Jerry Springer she had learned the signs of, amongst other things, 'When Yo man is lyin' bout his ho's'.

She only had one more question and this one was the biggie as far as she was concerned.

"So, why is it I'm the only girl who you avoid touching like I have the plague? I mean that girl was all over you, Michael, and you…"

She looked down at her hands unable to continue looking into his intense blue ones. The next thing she knew he was reaching for her; his hands closing over hers.

She looked up at him, her heart in her eyes despite how she tried to banish it.

"Because I didn't want to hurt you, Sara."


	12. Chapter 12

The few words of truth he had spoken all night didn't make him feel any better, despite what one might think. They just made him feel worse when he watched her face crumple as she started to cry.

She pulled her hands from his and cupped her face; her shoulders moving up and down against her silent sobs. He didn't think about what he was doing he just moved. And then he was at her side and she was in his arms. He held her tightly to him as she cried and he did what he could to help her through it; his fingers stroking her hair as he made comforting sounds into her ear.

After a few minutes she hiccupped and then pulled away, her eyes red and puffy, but still so beautiful despite this and the evident pain reflected in them. A pain he had caused.

He didn't want to hurt her? And here he had thought he was speaking the truth? He had already hurt her, he could see that. She was in love with him, it was written all over her face.

He smoothed the hair away from her eyes, and it took all of his will power to not kiss her. He just wanted to fix things. He wanted to tell her the truth about who he was, and that it was killing him that he had lied to her.

She squeezed her eyes closed and then looked at him.

"I'm sorry. I am so…drunk or something… I mean wow, I don't usually cry like a baby when…I just don't really cry much. And I don't know why you saying what you said would make me cry...but you probably think I'm a psycho, nut anyways. I mean look at me…"

He was looking at her, and she was beyond amazing in his opinion.

"You're fine. And I don't think anything like that, I promise."

He smiled and stepped away from her knowing if he didn't he would do something he couldn't explain away with the smooth techniques he had learned in training. No, if he kissed her the jig would be up, because he wouldn't be able to stop until the need for air forced him to.

He moved away and made himself pour two mugs of coffee, his hands shaking more then the first time he had held a gun. And then willing his hands still, he carried them to the table placing one in front of her and the other at his spot at the table.

"Cream and sugar?"

She shook her head so he sat down, his fingers moving to his mug to fiddle with it.

She was staring at her own mug, and spoke without looking up.

"You said you didn't want to hurt me. What did you mean by that?"

She finally looked up at his silence.

"I don't know, I guess it felt like I would be leading you on or something. I didn't want to do that. I mean if you started liking me or something… not that you do…But… you do, right?"

She looked at him, a panic filling her eyes.

"Um, I don't…I don't…no…I mean of course I don't. I mean we're friends and that's all. You're not my type…you're too nice. I mean I like guys who have piercings in weird spots…the more weird the better…or guys with really big muscles… That's hot too…I'm definitely not into you!"

He knew what she was trying to do and had to fight the sad smile that threatened.

"Well, then it's a good thing I'm gay, 'cause I feel totally emasculated right about now."

He let loose the smile after a beat and she laughed as if relieved.

"Right you are gay. And you know what? I'm going to find you a guy really soon."

She picked up her coffee at this and took a sip. And then sitting it back down she smiled at him, but he could see that it didn't quite reach her eyes; it couldn't quite mask the feelings she was trying so hard to hide.

(A few days later)

He felt her eyes on him and looked up to find her studying him.

"What?"

"What? I'll tell you what. I found him." She smiled proudly and closed her book.

He looked at her, his eyebrows raised, a quizzical expression on his face.

"Who did you find…Waldo? I'm lost here, Sara."

She shoved him none to gently and he grinned.

"Really, come on what are we talking about here?"

"I'm talking about the guy…you know the one I promised to find for you?"

He shuddered inwardly at the thought. He had been hoping she would forget about her promise. He looked at her now trying not to give away his true feelings about being set up with a guy, but it wasn't easy.

"Um, who is this…ah… Guy. I mean do I know him?"

Sara shook her dark head. "Nope, at least I don't think so, anyways.

"So how do you know him? I mean is he a friend of yours?"

"Um, no not exactly…My friend Missy's sister is friends with David's sister and…But I know who he is…and he's pretty hot! How do you feel about the gangsta, rapper wannabe look?"

Michael just looked at her.

(That weekend)

"Tell me again why I agreed to do this?"

Sara looked at him, finding her smile hard to suppress. He had been acting nervous since arriving at her house to get ready for 'The Big Date'. She moved to him now, her fingers unbuttoning one of the buttons of his shirt.

"There, much better. I mean we wouldn't want David to think you're all stuffy now, would we?"

He stepped away and re-buttoned his shirt.

"We also wouldn't want him to think I'm…ah…"

"You're brother?" She joked.

"Ha-ha, very funny, Sara."

She laughed. "I can't help it. Does he know that look went out with chest hair and gold chains?"

Michael just gave her a look. "So, tell me about this guy."

"I've already told you everything about David…He's not out yet either…So it's perfect."

She was fixing her make-up in the mirror, but looked up when she saw him staring at her.

"I meant Kent."

She turned back around and added a little more eye liner.

Kent was her date for tonight, a guy from a rival school. Sara had met him a while ago at a party and at the end of the night the two of them had hooked up. Sara remembered him being pretty hot, but then again she had been fairly stoned that night. Of course it didn't really matter. What mattered was that she was there to help Michael through this.

"He's cool, you'll like him…I mean he's nothing like Jeff. Oh, and since he doesn't go to Fox Hill you guys won't have to worry about him 'outing' you or anything."

She turned and dismissing the look of worry on his face, she grabbed his hand.

"I'm ready. And the guys should be here," she glanced around him to the clock, "any time now. I figured we would take my dad's limo."

XXXXX

The theater was almost empty, the movie having had a long run and probably on its last weekend. They had chosen to sit in the back to Michael's equal parts relief and dismay. Relief, because it gave him a view of all six of the other movie goers; dismay, because everyone knew what happened in the back of movie theaters.

He was sitting next to David with Sara on the other side of him. Kent, her date was on her right side, leaving the rest of the back row empty. But Michael couldn't really find anything good about this situation. Here he was out on a date with a guy, while the girl he couldn't stop thinking about was with someone else; someone who despite his friendliness, Michael couldn't let himself like. And the simple reason was that he was jealous of Kent.

The whole ride to the movie theater, which hadn't been long, had been spent with Kent talking about a party he and Sara had both attended a few months back. It seemed they had hit it off and then Sara had never called him. But Michael could tell that Kent was hot for Sara by the way he kept staring at her legs in her ripped up fishnets.

As for David? The guy had hit on him the whole time, his eyes moving over his body like he was starving and Michael was the main course. And David had a habit of licking his full bottom lip when he spoke to him that was really making Michael nervous.

Now as they sat in the dark theater, the movie about two thirds of the way in, Michael told himself to just relax. So far the guy hadn't tried anything, and Kent hadn't either as far as he could tell. He took a deep breath and tried to watch what was left of the movie.

He was finally starting to relax a little when David's hand snaked over the arm rest and onto his thigh. Michael's hand shot out automatically and David pulled back causing the soft drink nestled in the arm rest cup holder to topple over into his lap.

"Aww, Hellz no! I just got these pants…they was some serious scrilla!"

He hopped up and made his way up the isle and out of the theater. Sara turned to Michael and he shrugged his shoulders innocently as if to say, "Don't look at me, I don't know what just happened."

Sara raised her eyebrows and then Kent was whispering something to her. She whispered something back and then her eyes moved to Michael.

Michael couldn't hear what the two of them were saying, but he figured it had something to do with him and David.

A few minutes later David sat down beside him.

"Yo, this shits gonna stain…you owe me, aw-ight?"

Michael was about to say send me the bill when David's hand wrapped around the back of his neck and pulled his mouth down on his.

Michael's first reaction was to pull away…and he did a little. But then he remembered that Sara was sitting right next to him. He knew she was watching them. She had been watching him with David all night. Watching and waiting for him to do just one more thing to prove he wasn't gay. So he moved back in and he let it happen.

He felt his stomach roil as David's lips parted and the tip of his tongue darted out to touch his lips. And then Michael let his mind go elsewhere, his lips parting almost eagerly as he thought about Sara, her lips soft against his, her tongue hot in his mouth. Michael was almost into it when David pulled away a little, sucking his bottom lip gently before pulling back. Michael felt David's fast breath against his chin and then it was over.

"Yo, you gots some serious skillz, yo!"

"Um, thanks, um you, ah, have skillz too, yo."

Michael turned to Sara, she was staring at them both, eyes wide, mouth agape. She blinked a few times and then clamped her mouth shut, forcing a weak smile. And then she turned back to the screen.

XXXXX

Michael had never been so glad to see a movie end in his life. But when the credits came up he forced himself to remain seated. Only when Sara was towering over him did he push his tall frame up to stand next her. David climbed to his feet behind him standing a little too close, but Michael knew they would soon be out of there, and besides the guy's tongue was just in his mouth, how much worse could it possibly get?

XXXXX

They were out in the lobby waiting for David and Kent to come out of the restroom, when she turned to him.

"So, you like David then?"

She had been a little quiet up until this moment.

"Um, he's, yeah. He's um, hot, I guess. But I have to say his language kinda throws me. I mean I think I understood what he was saying earlier when he was talking about his friend's car, but I'm not really sure what glomm means."

Sara laughed and looked down at her feet. When she looked up her eyes were more serious. "Well I'm glad you like him…Really I am, Michael."

"What about you and Kent? You like the guy?"

She looked away. "Yeah, he's okay. He doesn't do drugs anymore, so that's a plus, huh?"

Michael nodded. "That's a big plus."

They looked up as their dates joined them.

"Yo, we ready to bounce?"

Michael just looked at him and then, "Oh, yeah, bounceleave, right?"

"That's right. Yo you a fast learner, I like that." And there he was with the lip thing, again; his tongue snaking out to wet it suggestively.

Michael forced a smile, all the while thinking it was a pretty sad thing when the most action a guy had in the last six months was with an eighteen year old gangsta wannabe named David.


	13. Chapter 13

(A few days later)

Michael's eyes hadn't wavered once as he spoke. He had just given his weekly report on Sara Tancredi and now stood under the intense scrutiny of Agent Paul Kellerman.

Michael knew the man had been against sending him back in after Sara's stint in rehab, and he knew Paul hadn't ever really liked him in the first place.

In fact Paul always seemed to find something condescending to say to Michael, whether it was work related or otherwise.

Michael was surprised at the sincerity with which Paul spoke now.

"You're doing an excellent job, Agent Scofield. It seems Gov. Tancredi is speaking highly of you. He was quite impressed with the way you handled that..ah… little situation with his daughter. And I'm sure he will be locking up his sleeping pills from here on out."

Paul laughed, but then he was back to business; his expression more than serious.

"There are some new developments you need to be made aware of. We have reason to believe that the dinner honoring Sara Tancredi's 18th Birthday will be targeted."

Michael had been listening, filing it all away, but at this he felt his stomach drop. He swallowed hard and made himself speak.

"Do we know if this information is reliable, Sir?"

Paul nodded. "It's reliable, Michael. You'll be given a file with more details before the week is out."

And then there it was the condescending agent rearing his ugly head. He patted Michael on the shoulder. "Don't you worry, Mike there will be plenty of agents there with experience in the field, you just stand there next to the Tancredi girl and look pretty."

Michael's jaw tightened, but he kept his cool. He had a feeling Paul Kellerman was just waiting for him to react to one of his jibes so he could have him thrown off the case.

"Will that be all, Sir?"

Agent Kellerman nodded. "Yep, you're dismissed…Oh, and Michael?"

Michael turned to look back at him his hand on the door.

Paul's periwinkle eyes twinkled with undisguised mirth.

"I heard about your little 'date' the other night…so endearing! I hope you didn't do anything I wouldn't do?"

Michael's eyes were cool steel.

"No, Sir, I was a Gentleman "

With this he turned and walked out closing the door behind him.

(Early evening of the Birthday dinner)

Michael was on his way up the front walk when the door flew open.

Sara rushed out, and grabbing his arm she hauled him back down the stairs.

"What's going on?"

He wanted to stop her and make her talk to him, but the tears running down her face made him think maybe it would be better to just get her away from there. When she pushed him towards his car he let her. Where were the agents on duty? He put the car in gear and pulled out.

"Sara, what's happening? Are you okay?"

She looked away from the window, her eyes shining wetly in the lights from oncoming traffic.

"I hate him! He's so…God! Michael he wants to send me away this summer. I hate the idea and he thought it would be the perfect Birthday present? How can he know so little about me? What I would want? And to tell me today of all days when I have to sit and look like a little princess so that he can impress everyone?"

Michael hadn't noticed the dress she was wearing in all the rush. He glanced at her now and then looked away. She was wearing a red velvet dress that was low in the front, while the slit in the skirt showed off her long legs.

"Um, Sara, maybe we should just go back so you can talk to him?"

She looked away from the window, her eyes incredulous.

"Are you kidding? What do you thing just happened in there Michael? We did talk…or yell is more like it. We had it out. I told him he can forget it, I'm not going anywhere this summer. And certainly not to some fancy horse ranch where they pretend you don't have a problem to your face, all the while sending progress reports to your family so they will keep 'funding' the place!"

Michael pulled into his parking spot and shut off the engine. Not knowing a safer place to take her, he had once again driven to his apartment.

He was figuring maybe once she cooled down, he would be able to talk some sense into her and convince her she had to go home. He knew one thing for certain, he couldn't let her miss her Birthday dinner. It was  
crucial that she be there.

XXXXX

Michael set the coffee in front of her and joined her on the sofa. She had been a little quiet since her outburst in the car. He wanted to ask her how she had managed to give the guards the slip, but he knew he needed to work it into the conversation, so he sat quietly waiting for her to say something.

"So, did you call David yet?"

He had thought she would bring up her father again, so her question surprised him.

"Um, no. I ah… Sara. I decided that David is ahhh…"

"Not your type?" She asked hopefully.

"Yes exactly. He's not my type. I mean I need to find someone who doesn't need a translator for everything they say, you know?"

Sara nodded and set her coffee mug aside without drinking it. She turned her body more to face him, tucking her legs up behind her and moving herself closer to him in the process.

She had washed off most of the black smudges under her eyes while he made coffee, and her eyes had lost most of their redness from crying. He couldn't help but think how beautiful she looked.

"So, I could look for someone else for you if you want?"

Here it was. All he had to do was tell her to stop trying to fix him up with someone. But if he did that she might get suspicious. He decided would just have to risk it. He had no intention of repeating last weekend's events.

"Um, it would probably be best if… I mean, I think I can find someone myself…someone ah, more my type?"

They were sitting fairly close now and he wasn't sure how he had let it happen.

"Have you ever…"

Their eyes caught and then she moved in, her mouth crashing down on his. The feel of her lips on his both hard and soft in their urgency.

And then she was pulling away.

"I'm so sorry Michael! I promised myself I wouldn't do this. And…God I'm so…"

Not thinking about anything but the taste of her still on his lips, he reached and grabbed her face pulling her mouth back onto his.

His hands loosened their grip as the kiss grew more heated, their tongues dashing and tasting, in a frenzy of breathlessness as they explored each other.

He let his hands move from her face to her neck and pulled her closer, her body almost instantly coming to rest on him as she climbed astride his lap.

He let his hands travel over her bare shoulders, his mouth wanting to trace every inch of her as he trailed kisses along her jaw line.

She was unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers moving quickly as the need to touch him grew more urgent with every suck, every caress of his mouth on her skin.

And then her hands cool against the heat of his chest and back his shirt fell back against the sofa. He shrugged his arms out of it, her hands eagerly pulling him against her. Her nails stroked lightly at first, but then her fingers dug into him as her need to feel him closer grew.

He needed to stop this, he knew. He needed to stop it before it was too late. But it already was too late. She would never believe him where his sexuality was concerned after this. How could she when he was pressed so hard against her?

He moaned as she moved against him, her bare thighs there for his eager hands to explore. And then she was fumbling between them, her hands on his belt.

She stopped kissing him long enough to mutter, "I'm on the pill."

"Yeah?" His own breathless voice filled the empty room.

"Umm, hmm."

His belt loose she moved to his pants button all the while her mouth on his neck sent shivers through his body straight to his groin.

He pulled back. "Sara, there's something you should know."

"Tell me later, K?"

And then he was in her hand.

He gasped at her touch.

This was moving too fast. He knew he had to stop it…now.

"Sara, wait."

She lifted up. He felt the soft material of her panties scraping along his shaft…and then her hotness was enveloping him, making his next words dissolve in a moan.

He pulled her closer as she moved, their bodies coming together as one, as she brought them both closer with each rise and fall of her hips.

She pulled his hands off her thighs and placed them on her breasts, the velvet soft under his fingers, the buds beneath hard against their confines sending a thrill through his already thrumming libido.

She was so tight around him, so wet. He heard her breathing increase, her moans escalate and he gave into the sensations of her.

They both gasped against each other, their mouths coming together for one last breathless kiss as he filled her.

And as she took everything he had to offer, her moans joined his in their breathless abandon.


	14. Chapter 14

Sara rested her forehead against him and then lifted her quizzical eyes to meet his.

He knew exactly what she was thinking. He was opening his mouth to try to explain when a sharp noise broke through the heavy silence in the room. Michael and Sara both jerked their heads in the direction from which the noise had issued; continued to issue.

Agent Paul Kellerman stood in the doorway to Michael's bedroom, a smirk on his lips as he continued to slowly clap.

"I know what you're thinking. The slow clap went out with the 80's, but hey, Mike that was…wow…so slow clap worthy! I'm truly impressed. But you know I'm surprised you held out this long…I mean look at her."

Michael's jaw clenched as his mind whirred. What was this? Why was Paul Kellerman in his apartment? And why had the bastard stood watching them like that? It didn't even matter to Michael at this moment that he would undoubtedly lose his job. He was just pissed.

Sara who was still on his lap put her hands over her chest as if covering herself could somehow erase what Paul had just witnessed. Her face was ashen and as Michel took in the look of horror in her eyes he felt his anger grow.

Finally Sara's paralysis broke, "Who is this Michael, and why was he watching us like that?"

Paul shook his head. "No, Sara, the million dollar question isn't who I am, but who your lover boy here is. Why don't you tell her Michael?"

After a few beats of Michael's silence, "No?"

"Okay, then I'll tell her. "Sara, meet, Michael. Agent, Michael Scofield." Paul smirked.

Sara's hurt eyes whipped back to Michael.

"Sara, I wanted to explain...I tried to tell you…"

"In his defense he did try Sara. I think it went something like this. And then Paul made a puppet with first one hand, "Sara, There's something you should know…"

And then the other hand, "Tell me later K?"

"It was like watching the OC all over again!"

"Shut up Paul." Michael's voice was steady but deadly.

Sara had been watching Kellerman's little puppet show, but now her eyes moved back to Michael.

"You're an Agent, a guard? You were just watching me?"

She scrambled off of him.

"From the looks of that I would say he did more than 'watch' you."

"I said shut up!" Michael started to get up, heedless of the fact that he sat exposed, but the gun Paul pulled out of his shoulder holster made him freeze.

XXXXX

Paul's face was serious now but his eyes still held a twinkle.

"I want you to very slowly, remove the gun from your ankle holster and put it on the floor…but first why don't you put that thing away? Show some dignity Mike!"

Michael fixed his pants and then reached and slowly took his gun from its place next to his ankle. And then his mind whirring away, he tried to put the pieces together as he set it on the floor in front of him per instruction.

"Now kick it to me."

Michael did as he was told and Paul, never taking his eyes or his gun off the two of them reached and picked it up. He checked the clip quickly and then put his own gun back into its holster.

"This was so easy. Do you want to know how easy this was Michael?"

"How easy was it, Paul?" Michael's eyes were cold steel. He could hear Sara crying softly beside him, but he was afraid to take his eyes off Kellerman.

"Well, it wasn't that easy, I mean not nearly as easy as our Sara here."

Michael clenched his jaw. "Leave her alone."

"Now why would I want to do that? After all, she's why I'm here. It is pretty funny though. All this time with everyone thinking the Governor was the primary target. Well they were right, in a way, I guess."

As Paul continued to speak, Michael moved his body a little forward blocking Sara as much as he could.

"But they were wrong too. I only want to hurt our noble servant, just like he hurt me."

Michael stood up slowly his hands held out in front of him as he moved completely in front of her now.

"How you might ask did Frontier Frank hurt me? Same way he hurt you Michael. That's why you were so perfect for this."

XXXXX

Michael was listening and at the same time weighing his options. He had his body between Kellerman and Sara and he was determined to protect her anyway he could. The problem was Kellerman had his gun, leaving Michael with nothing but his hands…unless he could find another weapon. He had several firearms in his apartment, but they were locked safely away making them useless.

He quickly estimated the distance between himself and Kellerman and knew that he could never reach him before he took him out.

"I don't, understand, Paul. How did the Governor hurt you…hurt me?" Michael wanted to keep the man talking, anything to keep him from shooting them.

Paul smiled, his periwinkle eyes dancing. "Lincoln Burrows, your brother. Ten years ago, Michael. Ten years ago our fine Governor was The District attorney. He was responsible for taking away the only family you had, or did you forget that?"

Michael didn't blink. He hadn't forgotten anything, but he had put it behind him. Besides, Lincoln had been guilty; he had admitted as much to Michael. Selling drugs had been one of the ways Lincoln had supported them. Michael of course hadn't known anything about it until his brother got busted. But then Lincoln had always tried to protect him from things ever since they were little.

He met Paul's eyes. "I don't see it the same way as you. Tandredi was just doing his job."

"Was he just doing his job when he knocked up my mother and left us? Hmm? You see Michael he took my family a different way. He took my mother slowly, until one day I came home from school to find…To find her dead. She took her own life. But not really. It was him. It was always him. She killed herself because of him. And why you might ask would I take this out on my poor little sister? It's pretty simple…He wants her."

Paul paused for effect and then, "Did you ever wonder why your brother was treated so harshly, why the maximum sentence was meted out? Frank was the one who pushed so hard to have Lincoln put away. It's all in the records Mike. Five long years…some of which you spent in foster care which left you bitter. So bitter you plotted and planned your revenge. And now here you are."

Paul laughed. "Beautiful, huh?"

Michael heard Sara gasp behind him, her surprise matching his own.

Paul stepped forward a little.

"Paul... Agent Kellerman. You can't do this…You don't want to do this," Michael tried to reason with him.

"Oh, but I do. I want him to feel the pain of losing someone who matters to him. I want him to know how it feels to be alone."

"It won't make things any different, Paul."

"Sure it will. I'll be the hero who took out the crazy rogue agent. But alas not before he killed the fair redhead. Step aside Michael. You know you can't win this."


	15. Chapter 15

"Oh, I almost forgot." Paul paused. "I brought you a little Birthday present, Sis."

Michael held his breath as Paul reached inside his jacket pocket and brought out a small zip lock bag.

Michael's eyes moved over the contents; a syringe, a small vial of brown liquid, and a shoe string. Paul shook it, making the bag rattle, and then walking closer he tossed it on the table next to Michael's legs.

"Pick it up Sara, or I shoot him."

She hesitated for only a moment and then leaned and grabbed the bag.

"Sara, don't do it." Michael begged, but she was crying again, and Michael could hear her behind him, as she removed the items from the bag.

"Why are you doing this, Paul?"

"I thought we already went through all of this? Oh, you mean the morphine? It's just part of the set up, Michael. You see, you've been supplying her with drugs. Yep, all this time her daddy thought you were looking after her you've been fucking her and helping her fix. Evidence to support this is all over her, Mike. The only evidence I didn't have to plant. That's right, courtesy of yours truly you're bedroom closet is full of pretty much every article written on the good Governor and his family…they date back…well ten years." He smirked proudly.

And then his face lost all trace of a smile. "Load it and shoot it. Or I shoot your lover boy here, Sara."

Michael knew what he had to do, and it was now or never. But in order to do it he had to distract Paul. He stepped sideways, and as he had hoped, Paul's eyes locked on Sara.

"Good girl." Michael heard and then he was moving. He dove at Paul, his body connecting with a jarring of muscle against muscle, sinew against sinew as they crashed to the floor. There was the sound of the gun going off in the quiet room. And then Sara screamed.

Michael felt the bullet numbingly hot in his side, but he knew he had to stop him. He wrapped his fingers around Paul's wrist and squeezed as he slammed it down on the floor, sending the gun flying out of his hand sliding along the hardwood in a surreal dance.

Michael punched Paul his head knocking back hard against the wood. But then his hands came up around Michael's neck. He felt his oxygen being cut off and clawed at Paul's fingers. And then his training kicked in and he shoved his arms up breaking the hold.

He gulped in air and grabbed Paul hauling him up with him. And then he slammed him down onto the coffee table. It broke beneath them, sending the coffee mugs from earlier clattering to the floor.

Sara scampered away as the two men fought.

"Run, Sara…Now!" Michael managed and then Paul's fist slammed into the side of his head with a grunting rage.

He could only hope she would listen to him.

Michael slammed his fist into hard flesh sending a shooting pain up his side. And then he saw Paul's hand scrabbling inside his jacket for the gun he had holstered there.

Michael grabbed at his hands and then threw his weight on top of him, an even sharper pain slicing through him as he landed on his bullet wound. But he knew he had to keep Paul from getting hold of the gun.

And then he saw it… The empty syringe was only inches from them, but he would have to let go of Paul's hands to get it and when he did that Paul would be free to pull his gun.

Michael let him go and grabbed the syringe, his body still covering Kellerman.

He felt Paul's hands moving between them, and then, syringe in hand he lifted his body up and popped off the cap.

He saw the flash of black steel as his hand arched through the air bringing the syringe down into Paul's neck. Michael heard the gun go off, and then he was pushing the plunger sending a stream of air into Paul Kellerman's jugular

Michael rolled away with a gasp, his hands moving to cover the oozing hole in his abdomen. He was starting to lose consciousness when he heard the door opening.

He let his head fall to the side to see Sara standing in the doorway, her eyes wide and frightened. He blinked and he wasn't sure if he blacked out or not, but the next he knew she was beside him, pressing his balled up shirt to the mess that was his stomach and side. And from the looks of the once white shirt, he had lost a lot of blood.

"Sara, I'm so…I'm sorry." He grimaced against the pain.

"Don't try to talk, Michael. I called the police and their sending some help for you."

He nodded and gulped, his eyes drifting shut again. But he forced them back open just needing to see her one last time.

She was crying softly, the tears leaving streaks along her ashen cheeks.

He reached out to her and she looked up, her wet eyes filled with pain. She pushed the hair back from her face and then moved closer and grasped his outstretched hand, not about to deny him this comfort.

He heard sirens drawing closer, and then the blackness came... erasing everything.

XXXXX

"Sara?"

Sara lifted her face from her hands and looked up to see her father standing in the stark hospital hallway. She had been waiting for word about Michael. He had been rushed off to surgery upon arrival over twenty minutes ago and so far she hadn't heard anything.

"Dad…Daddy?" She got up and started walking and then running, her face crumpling up as her tears moved breathlessly from her. She threw herself into her father and his arms came up tight around her.

"My, God, Sara, you could have been killed…"

Sara nodded against him, her tears coming louder and faster now.

"Michael's bad, Da…Daddy…He…He might not…He might not…they don't know if he'll ma..make it." Her voice was hitching painfully from her throat leaving her words broken.

Frank held her closer and stroked her hair. He had been briefed on what had happened, but he still had plenty of questions, like why his daughter had even been at the home of the agent assigned to protect her in the first place. But right now he just wanted to hold his daughter and relish in the fact that she was indeed safe.

He detached himself from her, and then putting an arm around Sara he led her along the hallway and sat her down in one of the chairs in the waiting area.

"He did this to save me…Michael's hurt because he stopped him… Dad that man said…he said you were…"

Frank nodded. "I know, Sara… I know what he said."

"Is it true? Was he really who he said he was? Was Paul Kellerman my brother?"

Frank didn't have to say anything; she could see his answer written all over his face.

She pulled her hands free from his and ran them through her hair.

Her head felt like it might explode with all of the information being forced into her system. The biggest shock being that Michael was an agent…She hugged herself and felt her eyes fill with tears as everything fell into place.

Michael had been assigned to protect her, only befriending her because he was told to do so. And then there were the lies…so many lies to keep her from finding out…Being gay only one of the many untruths she had been led to believe.

The whole thing was just one big lie...did he even care about her? Or was dying for her just part of the job?

She suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe…. She had to get out of there. She stood up and started walking. She didn't know where she was intending to go, but it had to be far away from this place so she could think.

Her father caught up with her and grabbed her arm.

"Sara, wait, please!"

She looked at him, his anxious eyes meeting hers imploringly.

She realized he thought this was about him. But of course he did. It was always about Frank Tancredi. She let him believe what he wanted, telling herself good, if he thought she was angry with him, it would be easier to hide her real feelings.

"I just want to go, home. Please."

Frank nodded and took her arm.

And father and daughter walked the stark whiteness of the hallway, both lost in their own, very different thoughts.

(Later that same night)

"Please, if you could just…"

But she was cut off once again by the nurse on duty. "I'm sorry Miss, but I can't give out that information."

It was the same thing each time she had called.

Sighing softly, Sara put down the phone and rubbed a hand through her hair. She was so tired, but she knew she couldn't sleep until she found out if he was okay.

After leaving the hospital she had begged her father to just leave her alone. She had been amazed but grateful when he agreed and they had spent the rest of the ride home in awkward silence.

Once safely behind closed doors she had gone straight to her room and was still there, the tray one of the maids had brought to her shortly after their return sitting untouched on the small table next to her bed. The same table Michael had rested his glasses on.

She felt her heart ache as the memories continued to assault her. She couldn't seem to push them away despite how she fought against them. It seemed everything would remind her of Michael.

She flipped off the light and lay back on her bed hugging her pillow, her tears threatening once again as her thoughts raced on.

She knew now that she never should have left the hospital. But she also knew that her father would never let her go back there tonight.

Her mind refusing to slow even for a beat, she was considering sneaking out for what had to be the tenth time that night, when the knock sounded on her door.

"Come in."

She quickly brushed her tears away and sat up. Her father stood silhouetted in the doorway.

"Sara, I know I said I wouldn't bother, you, but I thought you might like to know. Agent Scofield was taken off the critical list. His condition was listed as serious but stable shortly after surgery. I've been assured he will make a full recovery."

Sara felt her heart leap with happiness at this as her eyes overflowed with tears. And she let them fall. The room was dark and she knew her father couldn't see her; couldn't see the tears of relief at his words.

"If you like we can go to the hospital tomorrow morning?"

Sara nodded. "Um, yeah, okay, I'd like that," she managed.

Her father was turning away.

"Um, Dad… Thank you."

Despite what he might have heard in her voice, Frank was a man of his word. He turned and shut the door behind him leaving her to make it through the night alone, just as he had promised.

Chapter End Notes:

I will try to update soon...this story is very near the end now.


	16. Chapter 16

(Sara)

Sara followed her father down the brightly lit hallway of the hospital, her heart escalating in her chest with every step she took that brought her closer to Michael's room.

She had spent all of last night going from angry to worried and back again, but right now she wasn't sure what she was feeling.

Not paying attention, she almost ran into her father as he came to an abrupt halt, but she managed to stop her forward motion just in time to avoid collision by placing her hands on his shoulders. She resisted the urge to lean on him and stepped back, backing away from the door in front of them.

She was no longer sure that she could do this. Yes, she wanted answers, but the idea of hearing Michael say to her face what she had been slowly torturing herself with since last night was almost too much to bear.

"Dad, you um, go on in. I think I'll…I just need a few minutes, okay?"

Her father nodded in understanding and squeezed her arm.

"Seeing Agent Scofield again might bring back last night's horrible events for you, Sara. But you don't have to go in there today. This can wait. I'm sure he will understand."

Sara shook her head. "No, I do want to…I just…Just tell him I'll be in in a few minutes, please, Dad?"

Frank nodded again and pushed open the door leaving her standing there.

Sara took a deep breath and made her way over to the chairs in the waiting area. She sat down in one of the uncomfortable hard backed chairs and leaned back. But she was only seated for a few beats before she was up again and pacing.

She knew what her father wanted to see Michael about. He had told her everything on the way to the hospital. The Feds had been over Michael's apartment with a fine toothed comb, finding all of the things she had told them to look for.

And while Paul had set everything up quite professionally there was no doubt in anyone's mind that Agent Paul Kellerman had orchestrated the whole thing. The false evidence…the false leads that the Birthday dinner would be targeted…Everything.

Sara knew that her father had also been chosen to tell Michael he was up for The Commendation for bravery. He was to be honored as soon as he was given a clean bill of health. 

She hadn't told anyone about her relationship with Michael. And it was for more than just selfless reasons. If she said anything it would most likely cause problems for both of them. Her father would push even harder for her to go away for the summer…and Michael? He would most definitely lose his job.

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. She knew she was just kidding herself. She couldn't tell anyone because as much as his actions had hurt her, it didn't change the fact that she was in love with him. And even if he didn't feel the same way about her…And she was fairly certain that he didn't, she could never hurt him that way.

She looked towards his room, her heart starting to pound in contemplation, the closed door so white in the glaring fluorescents, mocking her with its silence, daring her to do what she came here to do despite how she might feel once she was on the other side of it closed off from this safe, albeit overly lit hallway.

She took another deep breath and steeled herself.

And then she walked with purpose to the mocking door.

She paused for only a second and then opened it and stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

XXXXX

Sara turned around to find both Michael and her father staring at her.

"Um, sorry, I guess I should have knocked?"

She could feel Michael's eyes on her as she moved to stand in front of the window.

"Don't be silly, we were expecting you, Sara," Frank said warmly. 

"You were? I mean of course you were."

Michael's eyes hadn't left her once and it was making her feel uncomfortable. She took a deep breath and reminded herself to take another.

"I was just telling Michael here, about The Commendation. And that I think he should come to the house for dinner sometime, when he's feeling up to it of course."

"Of course," she agreed, all the while thinking, so it's Michael now? Not Agent Scofield? She had been out in the lobby five minutes, tops and yet it seemed she had missed something.

Sara had yet to meet Michael's eyes and his intense stare was still focused on her. She chanced a look at his face and his eyes held so many questions, so much…sorrow? 

Her father was talking on about the case, something to do with Michael's quick thinking and excellent training. Frank was almost making him sound like an obedient dog, but Sara knew it wasn't purposeful. She could tell this wasn't just another example of her father's snide praise.

She felt like she was being sucked in by his eyes, unable to look away. Breathe, Sara, just breathe! She pulled her eyes away and turned to look out the window.

She heard her father's cell phone chirp and then he was excusing himself, his apologies following him out the door.

She heard the door close behind her and then they were alone.

She took a deep breath and turned to face him. She was ready to hear him out, at least as ready as she would ever be.

She brought her eyes up to his and took a step forward, moving towards the bed.

Hoping that her expression was giving away nothing of how she felt, she stopped a few feet from him and crossed her arms over her chest. 

"So? I'm listening."

XXXXX

(Michael)

Michael didn't say anything at first, he just stared at her, standing before him looking beautiful, looking so hurt and pissed off with her molten eyes of copper. He wanted to take her into his arms and tell her he was sorry for everything he had kept from her these last few weeks; tell her that he loved her and he would never lie to her again if she would only stop looking at him like that.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was waiting he knew, but he wanted to make sure he got this just right. He had planned out a whole speech, but as he opened his mouth all of his carefully thought out words left him and he was lost.

"Um, Sara, I…I…I love you."

He watched her eyes fill up and continued quickly.

"I love you…And I think maybe I've always loved you…at least that's how it feels. But if you hate me…If you walk out and leave me sitting here I understand. I lied to you. I hurt you. I made you believe I was someone I wasn't. But you need to know that I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to make you feel like this. I just wanted to keep you safe…And it was my job, yes… at first. But it became my life."

He watched her shoulders start to shake as the tears began to roll down her pale cheeks, and his heart ached for all of the pain he had caused her. 

"Sara…"

She took a hesitant step towards him, and then another; this one a little more confident, bringing her almost close enough to touch.

And then she was in his arms... 

He held her close and stroked her hair, not quite believing she was really there, that she was letting him hold her. That she was forgiving him.

She pulled back a little and he reached up and pushed the hair from her face. She sniffed and reached and wiped her eyes on his blanket.

She smiled at his amused look as he took in the black streaks of mascara on his bed linen.

"Don't worry I'll wait to blow my nose."

He couldn't help but laugh.

She smiled and leaned in to him, her lips close enough to touch.

And as he leaned forward a little, he heard her whisper softly, "I love you too, Michael."

And then he was brushing her lips with his in a sweet kiss, a first kiss. And though this wasn't technically true, it was a first, the first of many kisses to come without the taste of lies, without secrets to taint the moment.

(THE END)

Chapter End Notes:

This was the last chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing everyone!


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